


Thicker Than Water

by TheJabberer



Category: Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Family Feels, Gen, I can't believe I had to tag that, Nanako is a queen and deserves more love, No Incest, The romance will be subtle and eventual b/c Ryoma is 12
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-29
Updated: 2020-05-29
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:53:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24436186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheJabberer/pseuds/TheJabberer
Summary: Nanako didn’t expect to get a little brother when she entered college.
Relationships: Echizen Ryouma & Nanako, Echizen Ryouma/Ryuuzaki Sakuno
Comments: 5
Kudos: 14





	1. Chapter 1

When Nanako gets accepted into the prestigious Tokyo University, her parents can’t be happier. But when they realize that she has to find an apartment in Tokyo, they begin to wonder if she’d like to go to the local college instead.

So when her uncle Nanjiroh asks her to take care of his property in Tokyo, she’s thrilled. She gets live in a beautiful home, even if it _is_ close to a temple, for _free_. It’s a fifteen-minute commute to her school, and in a safe area to boot.

When he tells her that he’ll be moving in as well, she grins and tells him that she’ll have the house in a livable condition when he arrives.

Echizen Nanjiroh, for all his antics (details of his brief but colorful life as a bachelor are well-known within the of-age members of the Echizen family), is her favorite uncle because, well, he’s _interesting_. (Nanako loves her other uncles, but how many people can say that they’re related to pro tennis players turned monks?) The fact that his wife, Rinko, is one of her life role models doesn’t hurt, either.

Nanako also can’t wait to finally get the chance to bond with her cousin Ryoma. He’d been quiet during his two visits to Japan, and the weekly phone calls that she has with him are rather curt, due to his slightly imperfect grasp on the language and his generally distant personality. 

So when she finishes her senior year of high school, Nanako cheerfully buys some furniture for her new room on the Internet, packs her things, kisses her parents on the cheek, and moves to Tokyo within a week. She has the entire house clean and dust-free in three days. She acquaints herself with her new neighbors and the employees at the drug store, the convenience store, and the grocery store.

And then Nanako waits.

(Little does she know, she’s waiting for a brat.)

* * *

The Echizens arrive a week after Nanako has settled in. It’s early March, giving Ryoma plenty of time to become accustomed to speaking Japanese and, well, Japan before his school year starts in April.

When she hears the truck pull up to the house, Nanako beams, pulls on her flats, and runs outside to greet them.

“Welcome back!” she exclaims, bowing and running down the stone steps.

Her uncle grins easily. “Ah, Nanako-chan. You’ve grown up well. Gone and got yourself accepted into Tokyo U, I see.”

“Congratulations,” her aunt says, enveloping her in a hug. “We’re very proud of you.”

Nanako’s smile grows wider. “It’s good to see you, Oji-san, Oba-san.”

When Rinko lets go, Nanako finally lets her eyes rest on her cousin. Ryoma is… surprisingly short, for all the tennis awards she’s heard about. He’s sporting a white Fifa hat and a tennis bag, and carrying an animal carrier.

“Hi, Nanako-nee-san,” he drawls, giving her an obviously-rehearsed bow, “It’s good to meet you. Please take care of me.”

“It’s good to finally meet you, too, Ryoma-san!”

Ryoma blinks. “Okay,” is all he says before walking into the house.

Nanako stares.

Rinko sighs. “You’ll have to excuse him. He’s…"

“He’s a brat,” her uncle cuts in. “Don’t mind him, Nanako-chan; he’ll warm up to you soon enough.”

Nanjiroh puts Nanako to work carrying some boxes into the house. He hands her one particularly carefully, giving her instructions to place it in a spare room and not to open it.

Naturally, she does.

“Oji-san!” she yells once he gets back inside, this time carrying a box full of clothes. “You told Kaa-san that you were done with those magazines!”

Nanjiroh rolls his eyes. “And the apples don’t fall far from the trees, am I right, Ryoma?”

Ryoma snorts and tugs his cap down lower. “Mada mada dane, Oyaji.”

* * *

That night, Rinko inspects the fridge that Nanako had stocked up earlier that week. “Well done,” she says, obviously impressed. “I was expecting us to have to order in.”

Nanako smiles. “Are you tired? Kaa-san taught me how to cook a little before I left.”

“Shoo,” Rinko laughs as she swats her out of the kitchen. “I got plenty of sleep on the plane. Just get Ryoma when I tell you to; tell him we’re having Japanese, it’s his favorite.”

When Nanako goes to her cousin’s room an hour later, she finds him playing with the strangest but cutest-looking animal she’s ever seen.

“Is that a cat?”

Ryoma looks up, unamused. “His name is Karupin.”

Nanako nods to herself, unable to tear her eyes away from the fluffy creature on her cousin’s makeshift bed on the floor. “I’m sorry; he’s very cute. We just don’t have many cats like that in Japan.”

Her cousin shrugs. “Mada mada dane.”

Nanako pays him no mind as she sets herself onto the blankets, stretching a hand out gently.

“Hello, Karupin-san,” she murmurs solemnly. “It’s nice to meet you.”

The cat, Karupin, sniffs her hand delicately and promptly begins to rub against it. Nanako giggles when the fur tickles her hand.

“Ah.” Ryoma blinks, looking surprised and rather put-out. “He likes you.”

“Good. I like him, too,” she declares. “Karupin, do you want to join us for dinner? Oba-san grilled some fish you might like.”

Karupin must understand her, because he meows and pads out the doorway. Nanako follows him out.

“Oba-san said you should come down now,” she says before going through the doorway. “It’s Japanese. Oba-san says it’s your favorite.”

“Yeah,” he mutters sullenly, setting down the yellow cat toy and shuffling over. “I’m coming.”

* * *

Dinner is fun, and Nanako finds herself a place in Nanjiroh and Rinko’s stream of banter. But Ryoma, for the most part, is quiet, and all of his his occasional quips are directed to his parents.

When he heads back into his room, Nanjiroh sighs. “Don’t mind him, Nanako-chan. He likes to be a brat when he first meets people.”

Nanako just nods.

(He’s a brat for the next two days.)

* * *

When Nanako heads down for breakfast at the end of the week, Ryoma isn’t there. When she brings it up, her aunt and uncle laugh.

“He’s not a morning person and he’s finally adjusted to the time zone,” Rinko says, good-naturedly rolling her eyes. “He’ll probably wake up at one. I’ll leave leftovers for him.”

After breakfast, Nanako and Rinko fall into a routine of doing the dishes and badgering Nanjiroh into drying.

They sit in the living room for a bit, making a list of the furniture that Nanjiroh and Rinko need to buy for the day. When it hits ten o’clock, they leave for the furniture store. Nanako plays with Karupin for another thirty minutes before heading to a tea for the incoming chemistry majors at Tokyo U.

When Nanako gets back three hours later, her aunt and uncle have yet to arrive. She’s about to set her purse down in her room when she realizes that Ryoma’s bedroom is completely empty, save for a napping Karupin.

“Ryoma-san?” she calls, looking through the house.

He’s nowhere to be found.

Nanako looks in the kitchen, and for some reason the discovery of untouched food makes her start to panic.

She checks the doorway, and notices a distinct lack of scuffed-up sneakers.

Nanako _knows_ that Ryoma isn’t a five-year-old who’s incapable of crossing the street by himself. But he’d lived in America for most of his life. His Japanese still has a slight accent, for Christ’s sake. Her mother’s crazy warnings about serial killers in the city come creeping back to her, and Nanako groans.

She reaches for her cell phone, only to remember that her relatives had yet to register their cell phones for Japan.

Nanako stands in the foyer, pursing her lips anxiously for all of ten seconds before she bolts out the door.

 _“Ryoma-san!”_ she shouts once she’s past the gates. When she hears no answer, Nanako blindly breaks out into a run, and her ears barely register the sound of her feet slapping the pavement. _“Ryoma-san!”_

She tries both the drug store and the convenience store, to no avail. The poor employees barely manage to decipher her hysterical descriptions of her cousin

Twenty minutes into her search, Nanako finds her cousin sitting on a bench at a nearby park, idly sipping a can of grape-flavored Ponta.

“Oh,” Ryoma says when he registers to presence. “Nanako-nee-san.”

Nanako is overcome with the urge to both slap him and hug him. She settles for staring at him in barely-contained hysterical relief for a good minute.

“Where,” she exclaims, once she finally manages to breathe normally, “have you _been_?”

“A walk.”

Nanako refrains from strangling him and places her hands on his shoulders to reassure herself that _yes, he really is here_.

“Ryoma-san,” she says seriously, “I know that you’re independent and perfectly capable of going on a walk by yourself. But next time, _please leave a note._ ”

“Sorry,” Ryoma mumbles, looking at the ground. And then, alarmed, “Nanako-nee-san, your feet are bleeding.”

“Oh.” They look horrible, really, but to be quite honest, Nanako couldn’t care less now that’s found her cousin. “I forgot my shoes.”

Ryoma suddenly looks much guiltier. “I saw a convenience store that way,” he says, with much more authority than a thirteen-year-old should have. “Wait here.”

He returns five minutes later with a bag of rubbing alcohol, bandages, and a pair of flip-flops. “Here,” he holds it out to her rather sheepishly.

As she busies herself with cleaning and bandaging her feet, Ryoma buys her a can of Ponta at the vending machine.

“It’s grape,” he mutters, opening it and placing it next to her spot on the bench.

Nanako smiles, despite the sting from the rubbing alcohol. “My favorite.”

“Mine too.”

Nanako finishes with the bandages, slips on her new flip-flops, and gets up to her feet, wincing. “Ready to go home?”

“Mada mada dane, Nee-san. You need to go to the hospital.”

When she freezes, Ryoma rolls his eyes.

“Come on, Nee-san,” he says, looping her arm around his shoulders and pulling her so that he’s supporting some of her weight. “You have your wallet, right? Let’s get a taxi.”

* * *

The nurses and the doctor all tut over the state of Nanako’s feet.

“What on earth made you forget your shoes?” they ask, shaking their heads.

Ryoma sits next to her, awkwardly holding her hand while the nurses pick out bits of gravel from her feet. If her grip on his hand tightens when they administer some shots or when the doctor gives her seven stitches, he doesn’t mention it.

But as surprisingly patient as he is with Nanako, he’s also surprisingly difficult with the hospital staff.

“Can she get a wheelchair?” he demands upon the doctor’s instruction to avoid walking for the next few days to minimize swelling and bleeding.

The doctor smiles apologetically. “Now that we’ve properly cared for her feet, she should be fine for short bouts of standing and walking after a few minutes of elevation.”

“Yadda,” he says stubbornly. Nanako refrains from rolling her eyes, because a wheelchair _does_ sound nice.

The doctor stares at him, perplexed. “…What?”

“Yadda.”

* * *

When they leave the hospital an hour later, Ryoma is smugly rolling Nanako out the doors and down the ramp.

Nanako is rolling her eyes, because Ryoma had taken a ten-minute detour to find the doctor and accidentally run over his toes.

* * *

Nanjiroh and Rinko are none too pleased when they learn the reason for Nanako’s injured feet. Rinko promptly stocks the house with Nanako’s favorite foods and orders Ryoma to take care of her every whim.

For his part, Ryoma does so uncomplainingly.

They develop a routine. For the next two days, Ryoma manages to wake up at a decent hour to roll Nanako into the dining room for breakfast. He plays a tennis match with his father while she chats with Rinko in the living room. Ryoma returns when his mother leaves for work, and they spend the rest of the day lounging on the couch, eyes glued to the screen.

Nanako takes the time to introduce him to some dramas. Much to her exasperation, he sleeps through most of them but somehow manages to wake up for every fight scene. 

(“Really?” she asks, poking him awake. “Ryoma-san, you’re missing all of the plot.”

He shrugs and yawns. “I could probably guess the plot if I wanted to.”

She doesn’t have a reply for that one.)

Once the swelling in her feet start to go down, Ryoma keeps her company during her short walks around the block. He smirks when she takes her first few clumsy steps, leg strength somewhat diminished after a few days of inactivity.

“Mada mada dane, Nee-san.”

* * *

Almost a week after The Incident, Nanako (reluctantly) tells Ryoma that he can stop catering to her every whim. Nanako and Ryoma find themselves sprawled under the new _kotatsu_ that Rinko had insisted on proudly displaying.

(“Sixty percent off!” she always preens.)

They are watching an episode of one of Nanako’s favorite older dramas, _Dr. Jin_ , eating her favorite milk-flavored ice cream bars, when Ryoma suddenly says, “I had a brother, once. He left and never came back.”

His voice sounds as aloof as ever, but Nanako isn’t fooled. She’s starting to know her cousin well–she can read the sudden inward curl of his shoulders, the droop of his hand, and his pointed determination to look at Karupin’s tail.

Nanako’s face softens, because she remembers the story behind Echizen Ryoga very well.

When Nanako was little, her mother had nagged at her uncle during one of their weekly phone calls about forgetting the importance of _safety_ during his days as an idle bachelor and reminding him of Rinko’s sainthood for not even batting an eyelash.

 _(“But then again,”_ she’d said, _“she’d told me once that she couldn’t believe you hadn’t gotten anyone pregnant before you met her. I guess she was right.”_

 _“Stop nagging at me, sis. You’re lucky you have me on speakerphone with Nanako-chan there, or else I’d be saying something very different right now,”_ had been her uncle’s exasperated reply. _“Do you want to talk to Ryoga or not?”)_

The weekly conversations after that had been full of stories of a little Ryoma stubbornly trailing after Ryoga. Family pictures had started featuring two cousins instead of one–they even wore matching sweaters on a Christmas card. But when the Echizens finally visited Japan, Ryoga had not accompanied them. Nanako’s mother had made her eat all the oranges in the house during the week before their arrival.

 _“Your uncle lost custody,”_ her mother had told her on the car ride to the airport. _“Remember not to mention him. They’re very sad about it.”_

Nanako can’t help what she does next. She’d like to say that she hugs him, but that would really be putting it gently. What she _really_ does is flop over on top of her cousin’s back, wrap her arms around his tiny shoulders, and squish him as hard as she can.

“Nee-san,” Ryoma grumps. “Get off.”

Karupin blinks up at them before sprawling onto the ground with a quiet _thump_ , tail swishing idly.

Nanako laughs. “No,” she says, hugging him tighter. “I’m never ever _ever_ getting off.”

He snorts, but Nanako _definitely_ notices the way he relaxes. “Do what you want.”

* * *

When her feet completely heal, they’re littered with discolored scars.

Nanako wears them proudly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My characterization for Nanako is based purely on that scene where she helps Ryoma pack for the US Open.


	2. Chapter 2

Nanako and Rinko are pleased with the progress of Ryoma’s affiliation when they realize that there are only two weeks left before Seigaku starts its first term. His American accent is now barely noticeable, and he’s starting to remember to mind some basic manners.

Their delight is abruptly cut short when Ryoma asks if Sanada Yukimura was a real samurai.

Nanako attempts to get him caught up on Japanese history by dragging him through all the exhibits at various museums and marathoning all of the accurate historical dramas she remembers. Ryoma tolerates this as well as a twelve year old possibly could for three days. (This means that for three days, he grumbles under his breath and scowls, but otherwise goes along with it.) It’s only when Nanako realizes that his reading skills are subpar at best and starts quizzing him on various kanji characters that he snaps.

“Yadda,” he declares the fourth morning, plopping down onto the steps of the Edo-Tokyo Museum.

Nanako opens her mouth and then closes it again. “Ryoma-san, I didn’t even _say_ anything.”

“Yadda.” Ryoma eyes the brochures in Nanako’s hand in distaste and tugs on his hat. “Nee-san, you haven’t even been to Harajuku yet, have you?”

She flushes. “I… Ryoma-san’s education is much more important!”

Ryoma rolls his eyes–a habit that Nanako suspects he’s picked up from her. “Yadda,” he says again. “We’re going to Harajuku today. And a cat café.”

It takes the better part of the hour for her to finally acquiesce, but damn if Nanako isn’t going down without a fight. She turns the train rides into opportunities to educate her cousin about J-pop.

“Heh,” he says, when Utada Hikaru comes on. “It’s good.”

Nanako beams. “She’s my favorite artist! Ryoma-san, let’s go to a concert sometime.”

He shrugs, but she doesn’t miss the way he looks carefully at the names of the songs for later reference.

Ryoma, in turn, shows her Top 40 American music.

“Who is this?” Nanako asks eagerly when a particular song starts.

“Taylor Swift.” And then, “Heh, you _would_ like her, Nee-san.”

* * *

Harajuku is probably the most fun that either Ryoma and Nanako have had in a while.

Ryoma, it seems, has the uncanny ability to find cat cafés because they end up visiting a grand total of three. Nanako’s favorite is a relatively unknown one with five cats, who like rubbing their faces against them once they register Karupin’s scent. But she is disappointed that none of them have a cat as fluffy as Karupin.

“Duh,” Ryoma scoffs. “Karupin’s Karupin.”

Then he flashes the bobtail in his lap a smirk. “Mada mada dane.”

* * *

In-between the cat cafés, they take the time to see some tourist attractions, like Yoyogi Park, where they watch street dancers.

“Does Ryoma-san dance?” Nanako asks, playfully.

Ryoma snorts dismissively in an all-too-obvious attempt to avoid the question. “Do you?”

There must be something about Harajuku that makes people act uncharacteristically, because she promptly does a stiff wave with her arms, triggering an appreciative look from a nearby street dancer.

Ryoma smirks. “Your first fan.”

“At least I have one,” Nanako says, shoving him gently. “I think I want to go somewhere peaceful now, Ryoma-san. We can always go to the Meiji Shrine; it’s where–”

“Yadda.” Ryoma grabs her arm and drags her off in a random direction. “I see another cat café.”

* * *

Ryoma ends up falling asleep on the train ride home, sprawled out shamelessly over half a row of seats. Nanako has to wake him up and lead him out of the train when they reach their stop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Does Taylor Swift even exist in the PoT timeline? What even is the PoT timeline? Who knows. Their school year starts in the 90s and ends in the 2010s.


	3. Chapter 3

With April comes school. Nanako is very thankful that her aunt and uncle came to Japan with Ryoma a month before the school year started, because she likes that she got a chance to focus on bonding with him before the flurry of classes, labs, coursework, and the occasional mixer her new friends drag her along to––and that’s not counting Ryoma’s own upcoming schoolwork and tennis practice when his school starts a few days later.

(Not that Nanako would have let that stop her. Leading a productive, fulfilled lifestyle is where Nanako _thrives_.)

She’s very, very touched when Ryoma starts to wake up in time to have breakfast with her now that Nanako’s classes have started and her schedule has become too hectic to lounge around all day watching dramas. He’s usually too groggy to really say much, but she likes to be able to chat idly with him by themselves.

“You have that tournament today, right, Ryoma-san? Good luck!”

“Thanks,” he mumbles, blinking blearily before taking a bite of grilled fish.

“I’m sorry I can’t go for most of it. I have a morning lecture, and then lab.” Nanako says the last word with notable weight and sighs, which has Ryoma blinking the sleep out of his eyes.

“I thought you liked lab?”

“I do! It’s just…” she trails off. “You know how people can get, I guess.”

Ryoma gives her a blank stare.

“Never mind, Ryoma-san!” she says brightly. “Just focus on your tournament today. I’ll come right home to change and head over, so I might make your last match! Do you know which train to take?”

* * *

Nanako _does_ like lab, even if it means that she can’t wear cute clothes or open-toed shoes on lab days, or that she has to remember to carry a hair-tie with her. She likes being able to apply chemical theory to her experiments, and idly chatting with her labmates while they kill time waiting for their reactions to happen and rinse their beakers off with acetone.

Unfortunately, the fume hood next to hers is occupied by one Yoshimura Goro. Nanako had met Yoshimura at an event for incoming chemistry majors, which he had spent hovering by her side while she’d attempted to introduce herself to her new professors and classmates. Now, Nanako’s Tuesday and Thursday afternoons are occupied with doing her best to politely sidestep Yoshimura’s attempts to invite her on a date while she goes through the lab procedure before insisting that no, she can’t go anywhere, and that yes, she needs to go home right after lab.

Today, though, Nanako’s usual excuse of needing to go home backfired. This time, he insists _walking her there_. She suffers through the ten-minute train ride and the five-minute walk to her gate with his persistent chatter and presence hovering a little too close to her liking. Nanako looks longingly at the gate, trying to find an opening in his speech about being in the basketball club to end the one-sided conversation.

“Yoshimura-kun,” Nanako eventually says–politely, but firmly and dismissively, just like her mother had taught her. “Thank you for walking me this far, but I can manage myself. Please go home.”

“Eh? But Nanako-chan– _ow_!”

“Ah, Oji-san!” she says, catching the tennis ball that had bounced off his head, already vowing to let her uncle read his dirty magazines for the rest of the afternoon out of sheer gratitude. “Welcome ba–”

The words die from her lips, and Nanako feels herself suppressing a sigh, because standing six feet away is her cousin, in all five feet of glory with a tennis racket in his left hand. Ryoma’s face normally apathetic face is smirking for once, and his posture is straighter than usual.

“Sorry,” he says, clearly not sorry at all, before bowing and reciting the introduction his mother had made him practice twenty times. “I’m Echizen Ryoma.”

“He’s my cousin,” Nanako supplies when she sees Yoshimura’s confused expression. “He’s from America.”

Her classmate nods and bends down until he and Ryoma are eye-level. (Ryoma snorts, clearly not appreciating the gesture.) “Nice to meet you! I’m–”

“Nanako-nee-san’s not interested in you. You can go now.”

Nanako’s jaw drops. “Ryoma-san!”

He shrugs unapologetically. “It’s true. I don’t see why you have to be polite when he can’t take a hint.”

Yoshimura shoots her a wounded look. “Is this true, Nanako-chan?”

“Yoshimura-kun,” Nanako says sympathetically. “I’m sorry for my cousin’s behavior, but I really think it’s time you left.”

Ryoma, on the other hand, doesn’t even bother to hide his disdain as he sends him off with a dismissive, “Mada mada dane.”

Nanako can only watch as her classmate turns bright red, straightens, and attempts to flee the scene with as much dignity as he can muster.

When she turns to scold Ryoma, all she gets is a smug, “You’re welcome,” before he takes back the tennis ball and pads into the house.

Nanako rolls her eyes and follows him inside. “I thought you had your tennis tournament, Ryoma-san? Did it get canceled?”

Ryoma shrugs and takes off his hat. “No. I was disqualified.”

She whirls around, and notices the cut on his forehead. “What? How? And what happened to your face?”

He shrugs again. “The girl I asked accidentally gave me the wrong directions, so I was late for my match.”

“Oh, Ryoma-san,” Nanako is suddenly overcome with the urge to hug him. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine. I still got to beat someone in a match.”

She purses her lips. “I’m glad you won, Ryoma-san, but what happened to your face?”

“The guy I beat lost his grip on his racquet.”

“You mean he _threw his racquet at you_?” Nanako _does_ hug him this time, before going to fetch the first aid kit.

“It’s fine,” he squirms. “My serves hit him in the face for a straight set.”

“Ryoma-san,” she sighs. “…Good job.”

“Heh.” Ryoma smirks while she cleans his cut and puts on a bandage. “Thanks, Nee-san.”

* * *

The next morning, Nanako wakes up an hour earlier than she usually would to make her favorite cousin his favorite breakfast for his first day of school.

“How is it, Ryoma-san?”

Her cousin yawns before trying the miso soup.

Nanako folds her hands and waits for his reply ever so patiently.

“Eh,” Ryoma shrugs. “It’s okay.”

The ingrate ends up asking for seconds.


	4. Chapter 4

Ryoma had been to Seishun Gakuen before, when he’d gone with his parents to take the entrance exam and submit his paperwork, but Nanako can’t help imagining scenarios where he gets lost on this way to school and misses his very own entrance ceremony. The American books she reads never mention them, and she wants him to be able to experience one. So, after she finishes making Ryoma’s thank-you breakfast, Nanako putters around between her room and the kitchen to change her clothes, put on some makeup, and get her schoolbag ready in time before Ryoma wakes up. She doesn’t _need_ to go to campus this early, since she doesn’t have class until much later in the day. Still, Nanako figures she can walk with Ryoma until they reach Seigaku’s gates before heading off to Tokyo U and getting some studying done in the library.

(“Why not make him a bento at this rate, eh?” Nanjiroh snickers from his spot on the floor.

Nanako beams. “Oh, that sounds like a great idea! Should we make some rice balls, Oba-san?”

Rinko considers it, and nods. “Why not? We’ll have enough rice if we have your uncle make his own for lunch, later.”

“Hey!”)

It’s the perfect plan, Nanako thinks with a decisive nod. Ryoma will be able to experience the rite of passage that is his middle school entrance ceremony, _and_ she’ll have enough time to pick up a drink from her favorite shop and scope out one of the good tables in the library before it gets to crowded––all while getting in some morning exercise. If things go well, Ryoma will be too drowsy to notice a thing.

…But probably _because_ Nanako’s counting on the fact that he’ll be his usual groggy self in the morning, Ryoma is inexplicably able to blink the sleep out of his eyes while they’re both putting on their shoes. 

“You’re heading out, too?”

Why, Nanako silently despairs, do all of her plans involving boys always go down the drain?

Still, she pastes on a smile as they set off down the street. “Yes! I thought I’d study at the library today.”

“Hm,” he says, before going back to yawning.

Nanako’s smile becomes genuine, and they walk in comfortable silence until:

“There’s your subway stop.”

“I thought I’d walk to campus.”

Ryoma gives her a flat, unimpressed look. “Right.”

“It’s such a nice day, I thought I’d get some exercise! And get a good seat the library!”

“You can study at home.”

“Sometimes a change of scenery is nice! Besides, isn’t it nice to walk to school together sometimes?”

“No. Go home.”

So subtly had failed her. Whatever, Nanako had no problems going with a direct approach.

“Nope!” she said cheerfully.

“Go home.”

“Nooooope.”

“…Go home, Nanako-nee-san.”

“I’ll just walk with you until the gate! I promise, I won’t even say anything."

Much to Nanako’s dismay, the promise must do nothing to appease her cousin, because Ryoma comes to a stubborn stop right in the middle of the sidewalk. 

“I know the way to school,” he mutters.

“Ryoma-san,” Nanako says, her hands on her hips. “You got lost on the way to your tennis match and got disqualified. You can’t blame me for being worried on your first day of school.”

Ryoma stays stubbornly rooted to his spot for a few moments, but he eventually grunts and walks around her. Nanako takes his nonverbal answer the victory that it is, but she can’t help sneaking glances at him as they continue to walk in a silence that’s a little tenser than before. He’s hunched over so that his mouth is hidden behind the collar of his uniform, but Nanako is sure that he’s pouting. She doesn’t buy his aloof act for a _second_.

Still, the whole point of this was for Ryoma to _enjoy_ his entrance ceremony and his first day of school in Japan. Nanako can’t relish comfortably in her victory for very long when he looks so put out, so when they reach a vending machine, she makes Ryoma stop while she buys him a Ponta.

“Thank you, Ryoma-san,” she says. “I’m sorry. It’ll just be for today.”

Ryoma’s lips quirk up, just the tiniest bit. “…Whatever.”

.

Looking at her cousin’s back as he makes his way past Seigaku’s gates through the cherry blossoms, Nanako is suddenly overcome with the urge to break her promise and shout after him to wish him luck. But she remembers her awkward teenage years, when she didn’t want anyone looking at her for any reason whatsoever. Shouting good luck in front of Ryoma’s peers might be too embarrassing of a beginning for his middle school career, and he’d been so considerate in letting her walk him to the gates, after all. She settles instead for watching his back, hoping he’ll at least look over his shoulder.

He does.

Nanako beams and waves.

Ryoma turns back around, but he lifts his arm back to her.

Ugh, she thinks to herself fondly. He’s such a brat.

(She couldn’t ask for a better cousin.)


End file.
